Posts tagged ‘alyssabyss’

July 26th, 2014

Degrade Me

I see you watching me from across the bar.  There is something different about you, not the usual kind of guy I’m interested in, something has caught my eye and I can’t stop staring now.  I can’t help but walk over to you, something urging me on in a way that I never normally feel.  I see you appraising me as I head over, your eyes following the line up from my heeled boots to my tight black skirt and over my figure hugging top.  My cleavage is exposed, milky white skin contrasting against the darkness of my outfit.  I lean over to introduce myself, my hand extended but instead of the handshake I expect, you grab my wrist and pull me close so that you can whisper in my ear.

“How much, whore?”

I’m shocked, and insulted and try to pull away but you hold on strongly. 

“Not so quickly, slut.  I know you like it, I can see it in your eyes” 

I want to protest but, for some inexplicable reason, I know you’re right.  You steer me towards the exit and I don’t complain, caught up in some unseen power you have over me.  I follow you into the car park and down the side street, against every bit of common sense I have.  You lead me to a car, open the back door and push me towards it.  I lose my balance and stumble into the seat.  As I’m righting myself, you get in the car and lock the doors.  I’m trapped.

The journey is a short one and soon you are pulling me out of the backseat by my hair.  I barely put up resistance as I know I want this, I can feel it in me.  Still, you drag me to a door and push me through, blinking as your eyes adjust to the new light levels.  We’re in a simple room; a table, a chair, a trolley with some indistinguishable items on it.  You throw me to the floor and tower over me, your power both terrifying and arousing.  Quickly, you’re on your knees, pulling at my clothes, ripping them from me, your hands rough on my body, no care being given to me.

“Time to make you mine, cuntrag” and you spit in my face.  I feel a throb between my legs.  Pulling my head back with one hand in my hair, your other palm connects with the side of my face.  And again.  And again.  The prick of tears in my eyes.  You spit on me and I shiver.  I catch a quick smirk on your face before you grab the shackles from the floor.  Long chains clink as you drag them over to me, fastening my hands together in front of my body. 

“Kneel” and I slowly rise to a position I think you’ll be happy with.

“Quicker and like this” and you kick my legs apart, the tip of your boot pushing into my cunt.  You grab the chain and pull my arms above my head.  Exposed.  You roughly grab my cunt in one hand, twisting a nipple in the other.  I scream, in shock and in pain.

“That won’t do, fuck slave” and you leave me for a moment to return with a large o-ring gag, ready to push into my mouth.  “Open wide”

The gag in place, you spit straight into my open mouth and laugh, a cruel chuckle to tease me.  I can feel the dampness of my exposed cunt, confusing me.  I want this, don’t I?  You hands are exploring me, not carefully like a lover but rough, grabbing, groping, pulling at my flesh.  You focus on my tits for a while, pulling and slapping them, red handpaints visible already.  You pull out a marker pen and start to deface me, words describing me written there in black ink, contrasting against the red marks and my otherwise ghostly pale complexion.  You list off the words as you’re scrawling them on me: slut, cunt, fucktoy, useless whore, cumslut, cocksucker, piss receptical, cumrag, three holes for use, body for sale, come hungry, cuntlapping slapper, slag, filthy animal, fuckpet, worthless fuckdoll.  Standing back to admire your work and smiling, you take photos on a mobile phone.

I’ve been quietly sobbing the whole time, disgusted by my arousal, horrified that I can enjoy this. 

“Your makeup is pretty”, as you smear it across my face.  “We should probably wash it off though”.  You unzip your fly, pull your cock out and piss on my face, into my waiting mouth, showering me.  I come instantly, with no warning, shaking with pleasure, my legs trembling.  “You will pay for that, piss loving slut” and you pulled me up to my feet. 

A bag of clamps and pegs are next and you cover every inch of pinchable skin.  You spread my legs so you can clamp my pussy lips then pull them so I am spread, lewdly exposed.  One final peg on my clit and you look happy.  I can feel my come dripping from me, hitting the floor, alerting you to my state of mind.  Again you smile, then walk off, leaving me spread, waiting, confused.  My cunt continues to drip until I realise I need to pee too.  The tears flow freely as I understand your plan, just as freely as the piss running out of me, down my legs, onto the floor.  When you return, you pull off every clamp and peg, apart from the ones on my cunt.  I come twice, squirting hard.  Again you smirk.  You tug on the peg on my clit, moans escaping the gag, my cunt dripping in response.  Another orgasm rips through me as you pull it free from me and I can barely stand.  You use this to push me to the floor, crushing my face into the puddle of my piss and come, your foot on the back of my head. 

“Clean it up, you filthy pain slut” and I do my best through the tears, orgasms and ring gag to lap it all up, gagging at the taste but loving the degradation.  I slump to the ground, exhausted but you drag me up again, clearly not finished with me.  You push me on to the table and secure me, my legs bent, my ass high, my arms spread.  You strap a dildo into my cunt, one that is slightly too long and wide so I feel stretched open.  You position a magic wand perfectly on my clit and start it up quite low.  I’m already close to coming again.  Next, a dildo into my arse, another big one.  When it starts to pump steadily in and out of me, I realise that it’s attached to a fucking machine.  Finally, you’re at my head, looking down at my face, menacing as you push your cock into me, simultaneously turning up the wand and fucking machine.  My mind starts to blur and I am awash with sensation and orgasm.  I feel you pull out and come on my body but the fucking doesn’t stop.  More cocks invade my mouth, more come decorates me, all the while my cunt is gushing from the unrelenting attention my ass and clit are getting.  I hear you laugh, talking to the other men in the room.

“Yes, she’s my whore now.  She will earn her place here.  But tonight, she is free.  Serves her right for not naming her price.”

July 17th, 2014

Latex Doll

The other day, you gave me strict instructions.  I was get my pubic mound waxed bare, have my eyebrows threaded and then make sure I was showered and shaved just before coming round to yours tonight.  I wasn’t to wear makeup, had to have my hair straight and dry and was to wear a plain black dress and plain underwear.  Understated.  I didn’t question it; I know how you like me to be presented.  I arrived perfectly on time and you were waiting for me by the door.  You walked straight to the car, me following close behind, and once seated, placed a blindfold over my eyes, blocking out the harsh street lamps.  Still I didn’t question you, trusting you implicitly.  We drove for what seemed like hours, although it can’t have really been that long.  You helped me out of the car, led me a short distance before we entered a building and then guided me up some stairs.  I couldn’t hear much, only our footsteps on the carpeted stairs.  When we stopped, there was a heavy thud of a bag hitting the floor and then more silence.  I was still calm, waiting for you, waiting for direction, waiting for something.  You stripped me naked, turning me this way and that, with haste but not roughly.  I shivered involuntarily as my skin acclimatised.  The unzipping of something and then the unmistakable sound and scent of latex clothing; the squeak of the material, the smell filling my lungs, the weight of it moving.  Time seemed to stand still.  I still had no idea what you were up to, I was still trusting and calm, although the latex was causing stirrings in my cunt.

 

You started to dress me, giving me instructions, having me sit down for you as necessary.  You started off by smoothing dressing aid all over my skin, taking time to leisurely rub it over my body, paying extra attention to my breasts and arse.  Then I felt cold at my arsehole and cunt, you fingering lube into both holes.  You had me step into something and then pulled up the knickers to my waist.  I felt a bulk of material bunched in my slit but you had me spread my legs, sorting it out by pushing the sheaths into my slippery holes.   Thoughts were starting to run through my head now, were the threats that you had whispered to me many times before finally going to come true?  My invaded cunt throbbed, breathing quickening, a flush across my skin.  You must have realised the effect on me but still you said nothing, just continuing on with the dressing.  You rubbed lube into the knickers before helping me step into another item.  My feet encased in latex, material pulled up my legs, then my arms, my body being enclosed in the catsuit.  You took time to make sure it sat right, that my curves were shown to their best.  The sound of the zip closing me off to the world nearly had me on the floor, quivering in anticipation.  Next were gloves to remove my feeling of touch.  Just my head uncovered.

 

Finally, I felt you behind me, unfastening the blindfold and slipping it off my head.  As I blinked and let my eyes adjust to the light in the room, I could sense you moving around.  Once able to focus, I could see we were in a dressing room, with a rail of latex items, a stool and a table covered with bottles of lube, shiner and dressing aid.  You were arranging my hair then pulling a simple hood over it, one with holes for my mouth and eyes.  I caught a look of myself in the mirror, pure black apart from the tiny peep of my pale skin through the hood.  I wanted to run my hands all over myself but knew I shouldn’t as you were still dressing me.  You had a pretty red underbust corset in your hands, adjusting the lacing.  Once you had it around my waist, you pulled it in tight, the boning working well to accentuate my curves even further.  There were suspenders dangling from the bottom and, as predicted, you sat me down and pulled on black stockings with red detailing on over my already contained legs, layering me up.  Next came the ballet boots, ankle high and black, the heels so very tall.  You affixed heavy locking straps to them and matching cuffs to my wrists, snapping the padlocks slowly in place.

 

You pulled me to my feet and took a couple of steps back to admire your work.  Then you grabbed the shinner from the table and worked your way all over me, starting at my legs and working the polish into a fabulous shine, all the way up my body.  I shivered with your touch, not cold but turned on by the feeling, the smell, the anticipation of what was going to happen next, what I thought may be in store for me.  When you reached my head, you took even more time, staring into my eyes but I could not read you.  You looked happy and pleased with me, with the way you were making me look but I could not tell exactly what you had planned.

 

“Just one final detail” you finally said to me, putting down the polish and reaching into the bag.  “Close your eyes”

 

I did as you said and waited, curious about this final piece.  I felt you pulling another hood over my head, gently smoothing it into position.  There were no eye holes and no mouth, just a couple of holes to let me breath.

 

“Open wide” and as I complied, you pushed latex into my mouth.  A condom hood, just like you have mentioned so many time as you’ve held me down and fucked me hard.  All of my body covered in latex, even my holes. I shivered, finally realising what you must have planned for me.

 

You fastened a collar around my neck, snapped a lock in place and clipped a lead to the front.  You led me by the chain and I hobbled on my precarious heels and nearly fell.  You pushed me onto all fours, tutting with disapproval and continued to lead me through the building.  When you stopped, you grabbed me by the waist and pulled me up onto some kind of surface, keeping me on all fours, my back arched.  I felt chains attached to my cuffs, holding me in place.

 

“Are you ready for this, slut?” your voice in my ear.  Then, to the rest of the room “Before you is a rubber doll, three holes for anyone’s use.  Feel free to do as you wish with what you see and enjoy.”

 

I shivered.  I couldn’t help it.  Part of it was fear, knowing that I would be in for a rough few hours, part of it was desire and anticipation, knowing that my cunt was dripping, filled with the sheath, knowing that I wasn’t going to feel the touch of skin on skin.  No way to know what was coming, no way to know who was doing what.  I waited there as still and patiently as I could, knowing that there were people walking around me, eyeing me up, deciding if I was worth it.  I could hear the muffle of conversation, of laughter, of lust.  A hand ran along my body, caressing, grabbing, groping.  The waiting was so hard and I was trying not to make a sound, trying not to give away my desperation.  I corrected my positioning, arching my back more, thrusting my arse further in the air, making my mouth more available too.  It can’t have been all that long but it felt like hours before I felt a body at my head, a zip unfastening, lube being pumped.  My mouth was open, ready for it’s invasion, desperate to feel cock and suck on it.  I was so focussed that I was shocked when I felt my cunt being stretched, penetrated so deeply in a quick thrust.  As my mouth opened wider to gasp, it was filled and I found myself barely being able to concentrate on the spitroasting I was getting.  My cunt was getting pounded by a jackhammer, whereas my mouth was getting a steady but deep fucking, cock being held down my throat longer than was really necessary so I was choking and gasping for air.  Soon there was an addition of a probing at my arsehole, solid and slowly stretching me wide and I could barely remember to breath with all my holes filled and my body desperate to come.  As my arse swallowed the plug, both cocks seemed to speed up and I was quickly pushed over the edge, my body shaking, prevented from screaming out loud by the cock gagging me.  It wasn’t long before both bodies pumping into me bucked and stopped, cocks twitching as they both came.  I was still spasming from my orgasm as the plug was pulled from my arse and pushed back in, out and in, someone fucking me with it, until it was fully removed and replaced with something longer and attached to a body.  Another orgasm flooded my body quickly and I stopped having a real sense of timing and actions.  Cocks and toys kept pounding at my body and there were times when I could feel a group of people grunting and moaning around me.  I lost count as various combinations of my holes were filled at the same time and I could barely last a few minutes before I could come again.  People were rough with my, spanking my latex clad arse, pulling me around, grabbing the sides of my head, my hips, my waist.  The noise in the room, although muffled through the latex, still seemed to be getting louder.  More people were there, laughing, moaning, groaning.

 

The sensation was overwhelming.  My body was weak, exhausted, literally fucked.  I was used like a doll, everyone’s toy for the night and I was going to remember.  I was still high from the orgasms, high from the sensation of being the night’s attraction when I heard you at my ear again.

 

“Time to clean you up, my little whore, and count up the money that you’ve made me” and with that, you led me away, tears forming within my latex hood.  I really am your whore now.

July 13th, 2014

Pain

I promise there will be some more smut in the near future, rather than all this rambling on about my feelings and stuff but sometimes I feel this is a good place for me to talk about what is going on in my head as I know people can often relate.

I recently wrote about inadequacy and how I end up comparing myself with people when I top and not feeling good enough.  I talked about my feelings as a bottom and how it’s rare for me to do that same kind of comparison but I found myself thinking like that on Saturday night and it got me thinking about pain during play quite a lot, including talking to E about how I’m needing to play a little differently at the moment.

It started out on Friday.  At Lash, a couple were playing really hard, harder than I think I’ve seen anyone play for quite a while and for quite a long scene too.  I remarked that it was making me wince, feeling that there was no way I could take what the bottom was taking.  The thing is, I have done.  I did two videos that I am taking a lot in and I have taken some violent canings in my time too.  I can still take a good kicking (as I proved on Friday but that’s another story) even.  Thinking of those videos, of some scenes from about a year ago, I look back and don’t see the same person.  I can’t even believe that I could do those scenes and enjoy them as much as I know I did.  I went through a period for being a heavy masochist; probably more that than submissive at the time.

I didn’t think much of it until we played a little on Saturday night.  It was a flogging scene and I’d talked about needing a good warm up.  I ended up crying my eyes out, my tears getting worse at the fact that I was crying (silly, I know).   I actually don’t always have a problem crying during play but this didn’t feel like release or the kind of time that I wanted to be crying because of the pain.    I was struggling a lot more than I wanted to be, than I felt I should be, than I know I normally do.  I felt silly, less like a masochist than ever and frustrated as hell at myself for not taking the pain well.  E is so used to me warming up so much quicker that it caught him off guard and he started again, easing me in better.  It doesn’t help that he is a dacryphiliac either! It was a good scene and let me talk about my pain thing that’s going on right now, plus I got my own back later!

I do find it interesting that my pain threshold, especially for certain types of pain, has changed so much.  Or at least my perception of it has.  E insists (with witnesses) that he actually hits really damn hard anyway and that it’s not that I have no pain threshold.  There is a definite shift in my tolerance right now, though, and it still surprises me everytime it happens.  Currently, I feel my identity as a masochist is slipping away a bit and I’m actually quite sad at that.  Maybe it’s just because of the type of play I’ve been doing recently, maybe it’s because, much as I see myself as mainly a bottom, I have actually rarely bottomed to anyone other than E in the last year and we now have such a strong D/s dynamic that I can’t always remove that frame of mind from my subconscious.  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s the time of the month, a change in my medications, something else entirely or a combination of any of them.  I know that I will learn to love pain again and I will stop feeling like a whimp.  And, in the meantime, I can play around at see how to ease this.  Or let E enjoy making me cry from the physical pain for once!

June 28th, 2014

Good Girl

As you may know, I didn’t always see myself as a submissive.  Or submissive really.  I’ve been thinking about that a lot, having read various different things recently, including some awesome posts on Sugarbutch Chronicles and I also took the Submissive Playground s-type quiz.  Plus I’ve just been doing my usual pondering/overthinking thing like I always do.  It’s been interesting to look at myself in retrospect, realising that there always was a submissive part of me, just I didn’t always have someone to submit to.  Or, I should say, someone I could submit to.  My journey with that is still continuing, although I’m sure I have met my match.  I still don’t always want to now, which is probably one of the main reasons that I can’t do a permanently collared, 24/7 D/s relationship!  It’s not just be being bratty, there are just aspects of my personality that don’t sit well with having that power exchange all of the time, plus, being a poly switch makes a permanent collar more difficult, for me anyway.

There is a difference between being submissive and a submissive.  I’ve always been aware of it but I don’t think I really got the distinction until quite recently.  Well, the distinction I have in my head, of my kind of submission.  There is a submissive side of me, one that wants to give myself up to someone.  It’s the act of submission, of serving, of taking a punishment, of being an object, whatever that act may be.  Being a submissive, though, is that craving I have.  That deep seated longing I have to behave, to give up my control, to be collared and cared for.  It’s subtle, with blurring edges and I’m not even sure if I’ve really put my point across well enough for you to see how I feel it’s different.  Plus I know that other people will probably see it in a different way.  Maybe it’s because I see myself as submissive but I am his submissive.  Not just a random one.  Not a submissive for just anyone.  I can act the part when needs be (sometimes my camming work dictates this) but, in general, I am his.  Let me explain.

Sometimes, all I want is to be a good girl, a princess, a good kitty.  Curled up, being stroked, my head in a lap, a collar round my neck.  Or on my knees, waiting, presenting, polishing boots.  Or wearing a plug, dressing up pretty, taking photos of myself.  I want to be his good girl.  I want my head in his lap.  I want to kneel before him.  Follow instructions for him.

This is where I realise I am a submissive, but not any random one, his.  Always.

May 29th, 2014

SMD Conference 2014

Well, it is over for another year but I am still coming down from an amazing weekend at the SM Dykes Manchester Annual Women’s Conference.  As always, it has been a wonderful weekend, starting with the auction on Friday night and ending with the final play party on Monday afternoon.

This year was my fourth conference, although I didn’t go to much last year.  It was very different for me, not going along with a partner and also realising that I am such a different person now.  I was so shy and reserved at my first one and now, I can barely recognise myself as I am so chatty, involved and bouncy.  The muscles in my face are still sore as I can’t stop smiling and laughing.  Not only did I have a fun weekend but also a successful one as I was running Lash for Lasses on Sunday and it went really well.  I’ve had loads of positive feedback from it and I covered all my costs too so I was a very happy bunny.

The workshops over the weekend were really interesting and fun and it was hard to choose just one each session.  I talked about cunt, leather community, pegs and Girl Guides and it was really good to spend the weekend with some of my favourite people, many whom I only get to see once or twice a year.  I even got to say my goodbyes when I gatecrashed the brunch on Monday morning!

The main thing I want to write about, though, is the Monday play party.  It was the only time I had to play all weekend, not that that was a problem, although I now also have a few people I need to organise dates with as I just didn’t have time over the weekend (another entirely new thing for me!).  I got chance to experience some different needle play with a top who I have admired for a long time.  She did a needle corset on my chest, laced with ribbon and it looked so pretty (I’m gutted I didn’t get a photo) but felt even more amazing, especially when the needles were being tweaked and played with.  The sensations were awesome and I got very floaty from just over a dozen needles.  I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to play with her more at some point as she really is a gorgeous person too.

I had enough time to come down enough for my main date planned over the weekend.  Time to properly break in my new floggers and to play with someone who I have not done enough mean things to, quite frankly!  Baited by his implication that flogging is just a nice sensation thing, I pushed myself to be that more mean, that little bit more forceful.  Pushing him against the wall, aggressive kissing, pushing my body against his.  Then the teasing hands and nails, running the falls over his skin, gentle caresses, a light, slow start to my flogging on his back.  Build up and pace, teasing, testing.  Adding speed and force, adding my second flogger, encouraged by the moans and hisses as it got harder.  I wish I could have gone on for so much longer but my fatigue of the weekend and timing meant it was time to end things, however much I craved to do more, however much I wanted to continue with my games.

What I do think I deserve is my flogging merit badge.  I love my new floggers and feel I can use them pretty well.  Of course, practise will only make me better but I’m definitely a lot more confident now.

April 21st, 2014

Inadequacy

For some, BDSM is solely an addition to their sex life, something that they can do without, something that is easy to not do when life is a bit stressful and confidence may not be at it’s highest.  For me, it’s a lot more than that as it is something that I find seeping into my life more and more, being a core part of me.  Being kinky is part of my sexual identity and is very important.  It’s not something that I can turn off when I’m not feeling great, even though I don’t have a 24/7 D/s type relationship with anyone.  There are times when, as a switch, my everyday life, feelings and emotions may mean that I lean heavily to being more dominant than submissive or however I happen to be feeling but BDSM and sex are still very important to me.

I have struggled with my mental health for a long time and there are definitely still times when my self-confidence is low.  If I’m feeling submissive, this may lead me to feeling like I’m not good enough, that I’m not doing my best or not taking as much pain as I should be able to or I’m crying too much but, mostly, I compare these things to how much better I can be and have been on other occasions.  I know it’s not the best way of looking at things but it says a lot about me.  I don’t end up comparing myself to others too much in this way; it’s rare that it will matter to me how other masochistic other people seem or whether they are less bratty or whatever other trait.  I hold my standards for myself very high.

When I am topping, however, I definitely have a different confidence issue.  Some of it is definitely experience levels as I just don’t top as much as I bottom but I do end up comparing myself with other tops and don’t feel like I am good enough for my bottoms.  I worry that I’m not sadistic enough, don’t cause enough pain, don’t push hard enough, don’t leave enough marks.  It’s an easy thing for me to do when I am poly as my partners play with other people and I switch with my main top, or when I co-top someone.  I see them as more experienced, more skilled, more knowledgeable.  I start to wonder why people want me to play with them when there are much better tops for them.  In a co-topping scene, I can find myself shrinking away and pulling back, letting the other person take over as I don’t think I’ll be good enough.  My standards for myself are so high and I don’t want anyone else to confirm my fears by saying I’m not as good as so-and-so.

I know this is my issue to deal with and that it is as silly as wondering, as a poly person, why my partners would want me because so-and-so is better.  Or why do they want another partner?  Am I not good enough?  I know the answer is no, that it’s not about someone being better but being different.  I know that people must want to play with me because they get something out of it that makes it worthwhile for them.  I might not be as sadistic as another play partner but maybe they like someone who’s not all about that.  I might not be the world’s best puncher but I have a pretty good caning arm.  I need to play to my strengths and remember that I am me when I am playing and that’s what people want.


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